Yup. I named 'er. You kinda have to. Haven't you ever seen Sarah Plain and Tall? You have to write your name in the dirt. I wrote mine in letters from Porters, some barn paint, and wood. But the essence is the same. We named it Crooked Row Farm because upon planting our first seedlings this year with the kids... nothing was straight. Nothing looked clean and pristine like I pictured it in my head (or how I sketched it in the agricultural blue print.). So. I embraced it. And then made this sign. It's about to blow up Pinterest. Every one is gonna be naming their backyard.
In March we got 5 chicks.
They went through a weird phase...Can you see the resemblance?
They kinda turned into crabby old bitties. It was always something with them. I never had their water just the right temperature. They wanted their meal at 5:30 not 5:15. Fresh bedding twice a day not once a day. So. I built them their own place where I couldn't hear them squawk.
Dook at doze eyez. We adopted Oreo four days after we got the baby chicks. It was an animal overload for the first 36 hours. But turns out Oreo is about the lowest maintenance dog in existence. I have to beg him to take a walk with me because all he ever wants to do is snuggle. Which I love. I love dogs for their unlimited snuggling capabilities. The only down side to Oreo's snuggling is sometimes he Steamies me. A Steamie is when a dog (or Ken) is really close to my face and then breathes hot air breath onto it and a muggy warm layer of thin condensation forms on my cheek. Worst sensation. A Steamie. Do it to somebody. They'll hate it.
We started seedlings when we were deep deep in the Winter Doldrums and have slowly been moving them into the Great Outdoors as we've slowly moved out of our Winter Doldrums. And we plugged about 30 raspberry starts out there.
But they're not dollars they're strawberry plants. Ha-rumph. I did get to thinking though. Even with all the Cool Whip in the world; can I eat all the strawberries 100 plants will produce? I don't doubt much about myself- but this is indeed doubtful. So! I had the greatest idea to sell my surpluses at the local Farmer's Market! I got into a late night text cahoot with my friend about a booth we'd start with my berries, her honey from her backyard swarm, and maybe some crafts or something. We were drawing up our business plan and designing our logo to put on our jars of homemade preserves when Ken asked me what I was so excited about. "I'm going to sell all my extra strawberries at the Farmer's Market! We can use all the money I earn to go on vacation!" Ken stared. I squealed "Isn't that fanTASTIC?" in response to his silence. He said, "You might have 2 pints of extra strawberries from your strawberry patch. It's not as big as you think." PSHZzzzzzzuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeewwwww. <--- That's my dreams deflating.
At any rate. I'm so proud of my farm. It's becoming a lifestyle for me that I am so comfortable in. I love working in the dirt all day. Tending to the land. And teaching my boys how to become self-sufficient. I feel like I am on a good and well trod path. It's idyllic and romantic and makes my heart beat harder. Or... it could be all that shoveling and tilling that is making my heart beat faster...
|I can't dig a hole without kids climbing in!|
|Yup. Those are mine.|
I'm really into Duck Dynasty right now. And these really are extremely functional.
And East Coast Yuppie Meets Farming For The First Time with a Martha Stewart thing going on.
Come on by anytime you want. Admission is free.
P.S. I am considering an egress from Facebook. If you want to keep up on the blog posts- subscribe! Right over there on the right-- there's a button.